White Heart, Black Soul
by watchingpaintdry
Summary: The Past, the Present, and the Future collide when a woman from the Soul Society's Royal Court appears in Karakura Town, and does the unthinkable. Now, the powers she has unleashed must be stopped at any cost, and her true motives must be uncovered.
1. Prolouge: Gray Princess

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Once, long ago, in the ancient times of man, and the early years of the afterlife, there lived a princess.

The Nezumiiro Hime, they called her.

The Gray Princess.

She was by far the most beautiful maiden in the land, far more stunning than any star. She was so brilliant that even the sun bowed before her, the moon weeping in its own ugliness.

This princess was kind and wise, gentle and calm, but fierce and strong, quick of temper and dangerous when angered, for the elements themselves answered to her, and her alone.

She was one of the first royalty, of an age unheard of by any other.

She was perfection itself.

Her father, however, still believed her to be his baby child, so, with the belief that she needed the protection of another; he set out to discover the man that would become her husband.

Many fought for the honor of becoming the princess' future King, and many failed.

Except one.

One man rose above all the others, placing himself at the head of the pack, defeating his enemies in order to become worthy of the princess.

Delighted, her father made him her fiancé.

And so they were promised to be wed.

However, the princess, who did not love the man, wept over the looming loss of her freedom and innocence, and the skies cried, the thunder screamed, and the life of her once beautiful home began to fall to ruin with her sorrow.

Many days did the people suffer, as crops failed, rivers overflowed, and livestock died.

Then, one day, the princess, while weeping on her balcony, saw a figure in her garden.

Curious, she went down into her beloved rose bushes, determined to discover who it was that dared trespass on so sacred a ground.

The intruder, she discovered, was a wounded man.

His hair was white as snow, his eyes as black as pitch, his skin a sickly hue, but the Princess, as kind hearted as she was, took pity upon the man, and so took him to her room, and nursed him back to health.

There, while trapped in his fever, the man watched the princess, fascinated by her kindness and gentleness for him, for he was none other than her enemy, a hollow of the highest order. A Vasto Lorde.

Had not the princess been warned about him and his kind? Had she not bee told horror stories in her crib of his dreaded race?

She had, but she did not care.

Soon, as he regained his strength, the man began to fall in love with the princess, and she with him.

When he was finally healed, he stood from her bed, and extended a hand to her.

He beseeched her to run away with him, to forsake her land and title for her love. The Princess did not know what to do, for though she loved him with all her heart, she could not abandon her people.

Grief stricken, she begged him to once again return, in a week, and leave her time to think.

He agreed, and so left her with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to return. She, in turn, bestowed on him a rose of purest white, to symbolize her love for him.

So, a week did pass, and the hollow did not return, but the Princess' wedding to her suitor did draw closer all the while.

Finally, on her wedding night, while the princess lay upon her bed, convinced the hollow would not return for her, and stealing herself for a loveless life of cruel torture, there came a rapping at her window.

And so the hollow had returned, and took her in his arms when she ran to him.

She cried as she kissed him, every tear that fell a jewel on her cheek, begging him to take her away, and so he did, stealing her off into the night to his own home, in the wasteland of Hueco Mundo.

Her father, upon discovering this, was furious, and so decreed that every able bodied man would be sent out into that loathsome desert, and that his daughter was to be found, at any cost.

Many a brave man lost his life, for the elements still protected the girl, keeping her and her lover hidden from the view of her father, keeping her safe. Eventually, the king declared that he, himself, would venture forth.

And so he did, with the Princess' suitor beside him, he rode the perilous deserts, seeking his lost daughter.

And finally did he stumble across a beautiful palace, made of glass and crystal, which the hollow had built, in that week he was away, for his beloved, and so she had, as well, twined her roses of purest white throughout its halls, casting it into a beautiful testament of their love.

The Suitor rode forth, sword drawn, to face the beast, who, in desperation, faced him, to protect his love, for the suitor knew no love for her.

And so they fought, and the suitor did strike down the hollow.

However, as he was about to deliver the last blow, the princess did appear, throwing herself before her love, shielding him. And so it was she, instead, that was struck down.

The hollow, at the loss of his love, howled in anger, and the elements that had so faithfully guarded her joined him, singing their sorrow, screaming their anger, and turning on the suitor.

And so, with all that rage and hate, loss and sorrow, did the suitor find himself struck down, killed by the hollow's own mighty stroke.

At last, the hollow stood, alone on the field of battle, and so he did cradle his beloved's body in his arms, whispering sweet words to her deaf ears.

And so he carried her into the castle he had built for her, laid her down upon a bed of roses, white as snow, and red as blood, and black as death, and so did lay himself down beside her.

And so, he faded away, letting his own life slip away, her hand in his as he joined her in sweet darkness.

And so did the king watch, sorrow gripping his heart, for he realized his mistake, and wept over everything that had transpired, and so did vow, that one day, they should be resurrected by god, those two star crossed lovers, and join each other again in life.

And so was the tower encased in roses, the bodies within preserved in time. And so did the story pass into legend.

Until now...

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_I tried to go for the older storyteller vibe…dunno if I pulled it off successfully, but that's about as good as it's gonna get._

_Halleluiah…_

_Please READ and REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_Hearst, Love, and Kudos._

_WPD_


	2. Chapter Uno: A Visit to Death's Door

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"That's enough for today." Said Shinji. Ichigo, panting, leapt back, away from Lisa, sweat dripping into his eyes from his soaked hair. Lisa, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed.

"Come on, Ichigo." Said Shinji, gesturing for the orange haired Shinigami to follow him. Still breathing rather heavily, he followed.

Several blocks from the building and Ichigo expected Shinji to turn right, as usual. Instead, he turned left, going in the opposite direction.

"You have a place to be?" asked the Shinigami, curious, despite himself. Shinji smirked.

"A place we both have to be."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, there's someone I want you to meet."

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The area couldn't be described as rural, really, but it wasn't quite a town either.

Houses dotted the wooded hills, hidden around bends and curves in the twisting, paved roads. It seemed to be a strange blend of regions, all combined into one. And it was only about half an hour from Karakura town by train.

Shinji, on the ride there, had joked rather easily about the fact he was glad Ichigo was still a spirit, as he only had enough cash to pay for his own tickets.

Ichigo, on the other hand, was reading into the stiff uneasiness that had washed over the Visored.

"Is something wrong, Shinji?" he asked, as they trekked up an inclining road.

The Visored didn't answer.

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Ichigo thought it was probably one of the strangest buildings he had ever seen.

The outside was plastered in stucco, the roof covered with curved terra cotta tiles, the massive dark-wood doors set with black iron hinges, bars, and detail work. The windows didn't have glass, instead, curtains fluttered, like pale, white ghosts, catching the passing breezes with ease.

Ichigo had just opened his mouth to ask what kind of house it was, when Shinji walked up the front steps and knocked on the door.

Several minutes passed before the large slab of wood finally opened, revealing a young woman, maybe in her mid to late teens, leaning against the doorframe.

"What do you want, Shinji?" she asked, glaring at the addressed Visored with piercing, almost neon blue eyes. Her long, silver gray hair fell down her back in waves, the bangs and top pulled up into a half ponytail.

She was dressed rather casually in a pair of baggy cargo jeans, a wife beater, and tabi socks.

A silver skull hung from her neck on a chain, gleaming slightly in the half-light of the quickly gathering dusk. A pair of dog tags hung slightly lower than this, hidden partially by her shirt.

"Do you mind if we come in?" asked Shinji. The woman frowned, but stood slightly to the side, letting him pass, and then locked eyes with Ichigo, moving into his path when he tried to follow.

"Your sword, Shinigami." She said, extending a hand for it. Only then did Icigho notice her own blade, hanging from her second belt by a chain. It was relatively short, only about an arms length long. The hilt was wrapped in black, red, white, and gray fabrics, and another chain hung from the end, a second skull charm attached to it. The sheath of the blade was beautifully and intricately carved with the shape of a dragon fighting a tiger, inlaid with white stone on the black backdrop. A rose vine twined around the entire sheath, behind the fighting beasts, and was inlaid with some form of gray stone.

Blinking himself back out of his observations, he glanced at Shinji, who nodded, before handing over Zangetsu. The woman took the blade, and paused for a moment, examining it. Then, she turned and vanished down a hallway, leaving Ichigo to follow Shinji in the other direction, into a sitting room.

The door slowly swung closed behind him.

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_**Sorry it's so short…**_

_**Please READ and REVIEW!!!!!**_

_**WPD**_


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